


Life In Colour

by savingprivatesimmons (black_twosugars)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Blood and Violence, Fake AH Crew, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 22:25:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4582386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_twosugars/pseuds/savingprivatesimmons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blue was the dull rain cascading down Gavin’s bedroom window, green was the cash he hurriedly snatched out of the cashier’s till, purple blacks were the bruises that came with the danger of small-time robberies. Red, however, was the vibrant colour that changed Gavin’s life; he associated it with many things, each one completely unique and unforgettable, but there was one thing he associated it with the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life In Colour

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [creativecockbitesnetwork](http://creativecockbitesnetwork.tumblr.com/) prompt “colour”

England was blue; the perpetually drizzling rain cascading down the condensation-riddled windows of Gavin’s bedroom window in his hometown had ensured that. Gloomy grey was the cloud covered sky, filthy brown was the muddy puddles he never bothered to avoid stepping in anymore, and a murky concoction of everything combined was the river flowing near his house. On good days where the sun shone and the sky showed slivers of brilliant, pale blue, the river was more transparent with hints of turquoise reflected from the sky.

Blue had been Gavin’s favourite colour for all of three months when he was nine. It had been the colour of his favourite car from a racing show; the cyan and navy machine would be a fantastical blur as it whizzed past the cameras, and Gavin had never seen something so spectacular.

Green would always bring back a fond memory. Gavin had been sixteen and painfully hungry and the carving knife seemed like a great idea at the time. A forest green bandana tied around his face, covering his nose and mouth, and his hoodie pulled down as far as it could go, Gavin had slipped into the petrol station unnoticed.

Green was the colour of the numerous £5 notes the terrified cashier had handed over, but the purple of the £20s had been more appealing. He hadn’t found any cherry-red £50s, but he didn’t beat himself up over it; he wouldn’t form an appreciation for red until a lot later in his life. In the end, green was the colour of jealousy as his arrogant and selfish brother watched Gavin walk through the front door, food in his hands and a smirk on his face.

Purple and yellow were bruises and bumps from assholes in the year above Gavin who thought they knew everything. Things were no longer singular colours and Gavin loathed it; complications smothered him. Black and blue had been added to the palette of pain as others joined in with the shared hatred. He wasn’t surprised, it wasn’t as if he had expected any different of his brother, his father, or his even mother and her once-kind eyes (which were now dull and empty, alcohol long having drained all vividness from them). A dark grey was the hollow acceptance, but it grew brighter and brighter as anger festered inside him.

Black was the colour of the night sky as Gavin hauled his suitcase out the front door and into a taxi, and white was the colour of the aeroplane that flew him over 5,000 miles away from the house he grew up in. He had never called it home.

The bright white of headlights, yellow blur of streetlights, and multi-coloured neon glow of various signs didn’t feel like home either, but it wasn’t bad. Gavin had resorted to pickpocketing so he could save up for proper weapons. But then he stole the wallet of the wrong person – someone who wore their royalty as a monochrome black and white suit amongst the messy paint pallet of the city – and their friendship was difficult to put a label on.

To begin with it was thin air; nothing. But then the slowest hint of green worked its way into the woodworks and settled. The colour was familiar and brought back nostalgia of elated joy, but Geoff showed him how pocketfuls of crumpled green bills could be replaced with bars of solid gold.

The gold was spectacular, and he almost went as far as to call it his favourite.

But then Gavin discovered the importance of another colour.

Red is, and will forever be, Gavin’s favourite colour. If he could repaint the world with crimson and maroon, he would do it without hesitation.

Red was the most vivid in the fiery sunsets of Los Santos. Gavin would sip his golden whiskey and watch as the colours shifted like a river – almost reminding him of an ever-changing, cascading river from his childhood. He could see the halo of orange hovering in a haze above the city from his apartment; living on the outskirts of the city had its benefits.

Red was the spray of blood as it flew from bodies. Gavin’s finger on the trigger and smirk on his face remained as the only sign it had been him. He was hooked on the thrill that sent ecstasy and adrenalin pumping through his veins; joining the Fake AH Crew had been one of his best decisions.

Red was the bonds of close friendships that bloomed into something a lot more. Jack and Geoff were parents – constantly taking care of the rest of the crew with medical care and friendship, and leadership and parental advice respectively.

Michael’s red hot rage was the brightest fire Gavin had ever witnessed, but he knew how to dance around it and play with the flames. Sometimes he got burned, but most of the time Michael let the flames simmer down enough for Gavin to step beyond the wall of lava.

Ray and Gavin’s combined immature enjoyment of the more childish things in life formed a glow of red; a neon sign in the sky more than anything else. They were a dynamic duo of destruction, but Ray was one of the very few people who could tame the pyromaniac within Gavin’s soul enough for him to relax, changing the fluorescent crimson to a softly glowing rich maroon.

Red was smeared into blacks and whites along the pale skin of the Vagabond’s face as he removed his mask for the very first time – Gavin being the only one present – and he listened intently. His words were a soft, pastel blue, but despite the pale pink layered underneath, they were combined with a sharp purple; he was furious that Gavin had risked his life on a heist, but he had still removed the black mask, revealing the colourful mess underneath.

Pink was the blush forcing itself onto Gavin’s face as Ryan – only Gavin was allowed to call him that, and the privilege was a royal red in itself – made a witty, flirty remark as he chatted with Gavin. The two of them were fiery forces of nature as they tore through the bank, heavy guns in their arms and bullet-proof vests underneath their clothes. The danger was scarlet, but so was the eternal inferno burning in Gavin’s heart.

Gavin only discovered the purest of reds when it was dripping down denim-blue jeans from underneath Ryan’s black and blue leather jacket. Red was panic. Red was sirens. Red was the only colour Gavin could see when he closed his eyes, fear flaring up whenever he heard a single noise from behind the door; Jack and Caleb were doing all they could to stop the red.

Thick maroon was the colour of the liquid in Gavin’s wine glass; the taste was rich and sickly and enjoyable all at once. The flickering flames of a fire fuelled by curiosity and intrigue focussed solely on Gavin simmered in Ryan’s eyes as he smiled from across the table. The pure white tablecloth had lacy scarlet trimming and Gavin couldn’t help but idly run a thumb along it as he returned Ryan’s smirk.

Their meal was beautiful – the steak had been cooked to perfection, both of them taking it medium-rare – and the gleaming orange sunset left glimmers of gold in Ryan’s blond hair. They walked along the beachfront together, opting to watch over the far more tranquil shimmering ocean and soft beige sand instead of the bustling of the inner-city. As the sun transformed from orange to red, Ryan’s hand found its way into Gavin’s, and red was the only colour that mattered.

Fuchsia was the intense blush on Gavin’s face – he had almost frozen in place with the pleasant surprise as Ryan leaned in for a brief kiss as he wished Gavin a good night. The soft press of warm lips against his own were lips he had been craving for a long time, and his heart fluttered cerise as he enjoyed the moment.

Rich garnet was the colour of their strengthening bond. They worked like clockwork; able to predict each other’s moves and work together seamlessly. People caught on, but neither of them cared. They wore their wine red relationship on their sleeve like a badge of honour and their pride was the deepest of crimsons.

Ruby was the colour of the two of them crashing together for the first time; bodies falling into place like puzzle pieces. Heat flowed across their skin like lava, and the sparks of yellow helped Gavin make amends with the colour. Ryan taught him how to enjoy each and every shade of red that night, and in turn, Gavin showed Ryan exactly how to weave them to create the most beautiful yet formidable paintings of fire.

Vermillion was the blush on Gavin’s cheeks as it almost perfectly matched the red smeared across his cheek. The crew had been celebrating with the gold and bronze of alcohol after a successful heist whilst Ryan and Gavin had slipped out to the balcony; tender words doused in rose pink had been shared amongst countless kisses and shining smiles. Forgetting to check his face for the tell-tale signs of black, white, and vivid red had been his downfall.

By this point everyone had seen Ryan without the mask, but nobody had seen him without the immaculately applied face paint. Geoff had recognised the smeared paint on both of their faces and didn’t waste any time in pointing it out; bubbling laughter filled the room at his words. Taken aback, Gavin retorted with icy words as he sharply defended himself and Ryan.

Gavin wasn’t even surprised to find that after he wound up in what could have easily escalated to a shouting match between himself and Geoff – their boss’ disappointment was a sorrowful blue at the fact that they hadn’t told him about their relationship – Ryan acted out and shut everyone up. Wordlessly, he took Gavin’s face in his hands and kissed him. Gavin’s eyes fluttered shut and the bright white of the living room left him seeing a pastel pink. He melted into his lover’s arms and all of his worries dissolved into thin air, only leaving him with thoughts of how deep their love for each other ran.

Their love was amaranthine; immortal, undying, and the deepest of reds.

Red was fear. Red was danger. Red was blood. Red was everything that terrified the citizens of Los Santos back into the comfort of their houses.

But at the same time it was passion, love, lust, and everything in-between. It was the colour Gavin could fall asleep to, the curtains of his apartment not-quite blocking out the streetlights (but he buries his face in Ryan’s chest anyway, finding comfort in the sunset orange sensation). It was also the colour Gavin would revel in, armed to the teeth with over-the-top weaponry and grinning as crimson splattered across every surface visible.

Red was Ryan, and red was eternal.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr at [savingprivatesimmons](http://savingprivatesimmons.tumblr.com/)!!


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